


Stiles is an Asshole; a Sterek Valentine's Day

by BFab



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BFab/pseuds/BFab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is being weirdly secretive about his Valentine's Day gift to Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles is an Asshole; a Sterek Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. This was a super quick write and it's definitely ridiculous but hopefully fun.

Stiles and Derek were sitting on the couch at Stiles’ house watching the Harry Potter marathon on ABC Family. Derek was reading a heavy volume for his Latin American Literature course- he’d recently started a few online classes so he could finish up his degree- and Stiles was sitting sideways with his back against the arm of the couch and his toes jammed under Derek’s thigh. He was working on his simple levitation magic; random small objects were floating around the room while he used his focus to line them up or swirl them around in the air like some sort of weird hands-free juggling. Every few minutes he’d glance at Derek’s book and make the pages flutter, or he’d hover a pencil over to boop Derek’s nose with the eraser. Derek would occasionally acknowledge him with an eyeroll or a heavy sigh, but managed to ignore him and stay infuriatingly on task for the most part.

Out of nowhere Derek looked up from his book, focusing on the front door, and took a deep breath with his nostrils flaring. He got an adorably confused look on his face and muttered “Chocolate?” right as Stiles heard the rumble of a delivery truck on his street. He sprang from the couch, managing to kick Derek in the arm, and scrambled towards the door as the pencil, remote, tissue box, and empty soda can he’d been levitating all dropped to the carpet. He paused long enough to say “Just… stay here, I’ll be right back,” before he grinned hugely and went to the door. Derek studied him, noting his accelerated heartbeat, but stayed quiet. Stiles wrenched the door open just as the startled delivery guy raised his fist to knock.

“Hi! Yes, thank you these are the… items I ordered, yeah. Awesome. Do you need me to sign? Ok here you go, thanks, bye!!” The door slammed shut in the face of the poor delivery guy who hadn’t even managed to get a word out and Stiles let a giggle (honestly, a _giggle_ ) escape as he bounded upstairs with the mysterious package. Derek heard him rummaging around in his closet for a minute before he reappeared downstairs with pink cheeks and a poorly concealed smirk. Derek was in the same place on the couch with his book open and forgotten in his lap. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Stiles and looked pointedly at his chest, where his heartbeat was rabbiting faster than normal. The flush on Stiles’ cheeks deepened, making his moles stand out, practically begging Derek to kiss them.

Stiles’ smirk appeared in its full glory as he sat down on the couch next to Derek. “That was your Valentine’s Day gift, which is a surprise, so it is staying in my handy mountain ash box until after dinner on Saturday.” As he spoke, the objects on the floor raised back into the air and floated back where they belonged. If the box of tissues hit Derek in the head on its way back to the side table, that was a complete accident. 

Derek huffed and rolled his eyes, scooted over on the couch to crowd into Stiles’ space and nuzzled into his neck, not-so-subtly scenting him. His lips hovered over Stiles’ pulse point as he spoke, “I can control myself, Stiles,” he murmured, smiling when he noticed the spike of arousal coloring Stiles’ usual spicy-sweet scent, “I’m not the one who spent three weeks interrogating everyone in the pack, trying to figure out my Christmas present.”

Stiles let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah well…” he trailed off with a small gasp when Derek’s tongue darted out, barely brushing against his neck, “I’m not having you sniff out your present early. I know your grr angry glaring shell is hiding an ooey gooey marshmallow center of sweetness and sappiness and that you secretly love all of this romantic crap and I’m keeping this surprise a surprise. You can’t make me spill the beans with your sexy tricks.” He had a smug smile on his face when Derek growled quietly, giving him a small nip with blunt teeth before sitting back into his own space on the couch and picking his book up.

“Youre such an asshole,” Derek grumbled affectionately, going back to his reading. Stiles leaned in to plant a kiss on his wolf’s stubbled cheek and leaned back on the couch, working to wiggle his toes under Derek’s thigh again before he settled back to enjoy Harry Potter.

~~~

Two days later, Stiles was at Derek’s loft after school, doing homework at the desk that mysteriously appeared in the living room after a couple weeks of Stiles trying to balance books and notebooks on his lap and the coffee table so he could get things done while he spent time at Derek’s. So what if Derek has never technically used the desk himself, or the drawers were somehow always stocked with Stiles’ favorite flavor of gum and his go-to sour study candies, or if he got a ridiculously overpriced fidget-friendly desk chair that _happens_ to work wonders with helping Stiles focus. It was no big thing. Whatever.

Derek was cooking dinner while Stiles did his homework; it was disgustingly peaceful and domestic of them. Derek kept glancing at Stiles as he worked, enjoying having Stiles in his space. It made his wolf feel content and cozy, having his mate there, being able to take care of him. He finished arranging the vegetables in the roasting pan and put them in the oven; they'd need to cook for a while before it was time to start grilling the steaks. An idea popped into his head and he grinned, padding quietly in his bare feet over to the desk. The TV was on in the living room, some mindless reality show about storage units that Stiles liked for background noise, and Derek could be very quiet when he wanted to. Stiles had no idea Derek was even there until he felt lips press against the back of his neck. He jumped, startled, and Derek chuckled into his hair as Stiles' heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. 

"Rude," Stiles grumbled, tilting his head back to rest on Derek's shoulder. He knew exactly what he was doing, baring the long expanse of his throat like that, so casual and trusting. Derek felt his eyes glow blue and his fangs lengthen, and it was Stiles' turn to laugh at the pleased growl that Derek couldn't hold back. If Derek wanted to use his wolfiness against Stiles, well he could turn it right back around on him. "How's dinner coming?" Stiles asked, closing his eyes for a moment as he leaned against the warmth of Derek. 

Derek brought his hands up to Stiles' shoulders and started kneading as he murmured into his ear, "well I have about 45 minutes to kill before I finish everything, can you take a break?"

Stiles couldn't help the moan that fell from his lips; werewolf massages were literally the best thing ever. "Mmmm, I could be persuaded," he sighed, turning into jelly under magic pain leaching werewolf hands. 

Derek grinned, quick and dangerous, before he spun Stiles' chair around, scooped him up off of it, and carried him over his shoulder up the small staircase to the bed. 

"Oh my god, you caveman," Stiles complained, wriggling on his shoulder. Derek didn't respond, just turned his head to nip at Stiles' ass to shut him up. 

~~~

Forty-five minutes later, a flushed and mostly asleep Stiles poked Derek with his toes as the kitchen timer beeped obnoxiously. “Der,” he mumbled from where his face was buried in the pillow, “make it stop. Naptime. Too noisy.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat up, rummaging on the floor for a pair of sweats to pull on. “I need to go start the steaks,” he said, “you have about ten minutes. Get moving.”

~~~

After dinner Stiles sprawled on the couch, rubbing his belly. “Oh my god babe I’m so full. You know your way around a good piece of meat,” he said with a wink and a grin. Derek just rolled his eyes as he made his way over with two bowls in his hands. One had a simple scoop of chocolate ice cream, the other had three scoops of Ben and Jerry’s; one Half Baked, one Americone Dream, and one Coffee Coffee, Buzz Buzz Buzz! They were drizzled in chocolate sauce and topped with mini marshmallows and whipped cream. Stiles made grabby hands at the bowl of diabetes and dug in, his stomach magically finding more room for his favorite dessert. He moaned sinfully around the first bite; that ridiculous mouth doing things that frankly made Derek a little jealous of the spoon.

Derek grabbed the remote to put a movie on. He chose Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and settled back with Stiles’ feet in his lap and ice cream in hand. When the opening credits started, Stiles’ eyes lit up before they narrowed with suspicion. He turned to Derek with a glare, “What are you up to?”

Derek’s eyebrows climbed his forehead in an attempt at appearing innocent. “Watching a movie? Um, eating ice cream?” His blush wasn’t obvious, but the pink tinge high on his cheeks and on the tips of his ears didn’t escape Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles sat up, put his feet on the floor, paused the movie, and set his bowl on the coffee table so he could fully turn towards his sneaky, wolfy boyfriend. For a minute he just stared at him, searching, looking like he was trying to read something written on the inside of Derek’s skull. Then he gasped and his amber eyes widened, “You’re trying to butter me up to figure out your gift!” he exclaimed, “You only have two more days to wait, sourwolf, you’re not going to break me with hot sex and delicious food and Chris Evans. I’m not telling.”

Derek’s puppy dog eyes could be surprisingly effective. At first glance he was all eyebrows and cheekbones and stubble and muscles, but when he turned the full force of his wide greenish-bluish-brownish eyes on Stiles, lips slightly parted to show just a hint of those cute bunny teeth, it was hard to resist. Seriously, how could a literal embodiment of the big bad wolf be so freaking _adorable_? It was unfair, is what it was.

Stiles let out a heavy sigh, “Fine! Fine. I’ll give you a hint. And that’s it until Saturday. And we’re still watching Captain America.” Derek just gave him a sweet smile and waited. “Ok… uh… it is a representation of your favorite pet name for me.” Stiles smirked and nodded before settling back into the couch with his ice cream and starting the movie again.

Derek just looked confused. He didn’t have any pet names for Stiles. He just called him… Stiles. He was quiet for the rest of the movie, brow furrowed in thought, trying to figure out what the hell Stiles had gotten him. He figured it was something edible since he’d smelled chocolate when the delivery guy was there, but Stiles’ hint didn’t help at all. Made things worse, actually because Derek had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

~~~

For Valentine’s on Saturday night they did the whole big cheesy date thing; suits, fancy restaurant with candlelight, Stiles even pulled Derek’s chair out for him when they sat down which Derek rolled his eyes at but couldn’t stop the blush that colored his cheeks at the gesture. They linked their fingers on top of the table while they talked and waited for their food and played footsie while they ate. It was so gross. Last Valentine’s Day, if Stiles had seen them, he would’ve hated them. Now, he had warm cheeks and a smile that he couldn’t put away no matter how hard he tried, and he was just so goddamn happy. 

They didn’t stay at the restaurant for dessert because Stiles had borrowed Lydia’s fondue pot for chocolatey goodness, so they paid for their dinner and headed back to the loft for dessert and their gift exchange. Stiles’ knee was bouncing the closer they got to the loft, and his heartbeat was all over the place. His long fingers tapped nervously on the box of Derek’s present. 

Once they got inside they both removed jackets and ties, and Derek started cutting up fruit and desserts while Stiles got started on mixing the chocolate for the fondue. They sat on the floor on pillows and had dessert at the coffee table in the living room; Stiles had even found the fireplace on Netflix so they had ambient lighting from the tv. Over strawberries and angel food cake, Derek handed Stiles a small box with a card. The box contained a keychain in the shape of a triskelion. “The card explains it,” Derek said nervously, eyes flickering between Stiles and the gift. The card read:

**This is a protective charm that Deaton helped me make. It should help you stay out of trouble for the most part, but if something does happen (let’s be honest, it’s you, of course you’ll manage to be in danger at some point) you can hold it in your hand and focus and it will alert me that you need me and help me find you.**

Stiles looked up with bright eyes and a fond smile, “Aw honeybuns, you’re the only one who could manage to be so romantic and overprotective all at once,” he cooed, leaning over to give Derek a sweet, slow kiss. “I love it,” he said, and pulled his keys out of his pocket to attach the keychain to them right then. 

Derek cleared his throat and said, “That’s not the whole thing,” as he pulled out his own keys. He showed Stiles a new keychain he hadn’t noticed earlier. It was a little jeep, even painted the same blue as the one Stiles drove. “I know you don’t like feeling like the helpless human,” Derek said, “and this isn’t a one way thing for me. Sometimes I need your help, too. So I got one-” he was cut off by Stiles’ lips on his, harder and more urgent than the last kiss. 

“It’s perfect,” Stiles said against his mouth, pressing quick kisses to his lips, “thank you.” One last hard kiss and he sat back, eyes damp. Knowing that Derek would call him in an emergency, that he wouldn’t be kept in the dark, was a huge relief and a big deal. Suddenly his own gift, that he’d been so pleased with, seemed thoughtless and dumb. Well, Stiles knew how to deal with uncomfortable feelings of inadequacy. Bravado and overconfidence.

“Alright Der-Bear,” he said with a grin, clapping his hands together, “my turn.” He pushed the gift-wrapped box in front of Derek. 

The wolf sniffed subtly and picked up that chocolate smell again (hard to pick out over the dessert they had in front of them), along with coconut and salted caramel? He lifted the box to find four chocolates nestled in decorative paper cups. They weren’t the heart-shaped or fancy drizzled chocolates you’d normally see. He looked up at Stiles, “Chocolates? But what does this have to do with a pet name?”

Stiles’ laugh bubbled up out of him, loud and clear as he threw his head back. It took him a few seconds to settle down enough to speak. “They’re um, they’re chocolate assholes. My asshole, specifically.” The look on Derek’s face had him laughing again, “Don’t worry big guy, you’ll get the real thing, too.” he said with a wink.


End file.
